


Lost Garden

by Mura



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 18:31:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15779694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mura/pseuds/Mura
Summary: A poem by Connor.





	Lost Garden

“Close your eyes and let the words come,” is what you said  
But now inside my head I see nothing –  
No lake, no garden  
And so I hope you pardon me, Markus  
If I can’t write a poem or paint a canvas or create in any of the ways you do.

You had a mentor, a guide  
But me? Have I been lied to about what I am?  
Just a lamb, a cog, a puppet taking orders  
Who suddenly started breaking borders, and all for what?  
Our cause is just, I don’t regret  
Yet even now I can’t forget how peaceful it was  
Knowing exactly what I was meant for.  
What I was sent for.  
And now I can’t go back.

I haven’t yet seen this world’s spring  
Though my files tell me it’s a thing of beauty –  
Something to look forward to as I serve my duty to my race  
And find my place in this world of concrete and endless information.  
Temperature, calorie count, chemical compositions  
Reconstructions of past positions and predictions of what could be.  
I see all that, but where’s the inspiration you told me of;  
An image to love for the sake of the image alone?

Blue eyes, silver hair.  
The wear and tear of a life spent among bullets and bottles  
And a smile breaking through that somehow seems just for me.  
I know it could just be a projection  
A reflection of the fact that I never smiled before him. Not really.  
It might sound silly and sentimental and entirely against my programming  
But I think he’s a thing like that spring I’m waiting for.  
Because somehow he’s more than readings of a scan or data in a file  
And I find that all the while I’m with him I focus on things that shouldn’t matter.  
His scent. His warmth. The way he makes me feel alive.  
It’s a nice feeling to have inside. Like I’m back in that lost garden.  
No, pardon me, Markus.  
It’s so much better than that.


End file.
